


I'm In Love With Your Honor

by ionsquare



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Nogitsune Trauma, Not Canon Compliant, Panic Attacks, Werewolf Scott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 08:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1934496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ionsquare/pseuds/ionsquare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the nogitsune, things don't fall back into place right away. Stiles is trying to get back to who he used to be. Scott is slowly losing the control he used to have. They're not dealing with it together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm In Love With Your Honor

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Sciles Reversebang! [Inspired by artwork](http://coucourfeyrac.tumblr.com/post/91434052868/full-resolution-01-02-trust-me-click-the-full) created by the incredible [coucourfeyrac](http://coucourfeyrac.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> I was so impressed by this artwork and the prompt (coucourfeyrac is so talented) and to be able to write this fic has truly been a wonderful experience. I'm so proud of this fic, and I hope you all enjoy reading it. Don't forget to rain praise on coucourfeyrac!
> 
> Title from the song _Blood Bank_ by Bon Iver. It's my #1 Scott/Stiles song.
> 
> See end notes for explanation on tags.

A lot of things happen after the nogitsune, but things even remotely going back to normal doesn’t happen. This is, after all, Beacon Hills, and normalcy isn’t a gift easily given. Scott thinks he can still taste the nogitsune after biting it, and sometimes he has to wash his mouth four times a day. His mom stands outside the bathroom, listening and waiting, and Scott’s not sure why.

“Your dad called yesterday,” she says.

Scott spits into the sink, turning the water on high to drown her out.

“He’s trying, Scott.”

That’s nice, Scott thinks, but he’s a few years too late.

“How’s Stiles?” she asks, following him down the hallway.

It hits him that it’s been two weeks, maybe longer, and Stiles hasn’t called or even sent him a text since The Day After; it simply said: _Need some time._  He had figured Stiles would’ve gotten a hankering for contact, and he swallows back the hurt.

“Fine, I guess.” He drops down on his bed, suddenly feeling too big in his room. He feels it lurking in the shadows, clawing its way to the surface. “I think… something is wrong with me.”

Melissa sits down beside him, squeezing his wrist.

“Talk to me.”

“Being an alpha is just--” Scott shakes his head. “I’m trying my best to handle it, but every day I feel myself changing. Like, one day I’ll wake up, and I won’t be… me.”

“Do you remember what I told you when you thought you didn’t have an anchor anymore?”

Scott nods at her, staring at his hands. “Be my own anchor.”

“That’s right, and my opinion on that hasn’t changed.”

Scott’s trying to be his own anchor, trying his best to hang on to every shred of himself, his humanity, but he can feel it shifting, clinging to the person who he knows has always been there. The person who needs time, and space. The person who brought him back from the brink, and the person Scott spent weeks trying to save; but did he?

Did he save Stiles only to have him slip away?

“He’ll call you, Scott. Give him time.”

Scott stares at the wall, watching his shadow grow into a shape that’s becoming familiar, and one he’s not ready to face. Not without Stiles.

***~*~***

Stiles takes his phone out of his pocket, finger hovering at Scott’s name, only to stuff his phone back out of sight. He navigates around his room, listless and world weary, scratching his hair and thinking he really needs to shower.

The Day After he had texted Scott that he needed some time, but now it’s been two weeks. His dad had talked with the school board about letting Stiles take some time off. After all, it isn’t everyday that the son of the sheriff walks into the local hospital and proceeds to start a massacre.

Stiles _definitely_  needed a break.

His dad doesn’t know that he can’t open his closet, that he keeps all the windows locked now, that his reflection still scares him, thinking he’ll see soulless eyes staring back. Stiles can barely sleep, visions of death dancing in his head, and he repeatedly thinks about the time he stabbed his best friend with a sword.

He thinks about Scott a lot, and how much chaos he wrought in everyone’s lives, especially Scott’s. It’s bad enough Scott has all that true alpha crap to deal with, but to have his best friend running around possessed and ravaging Beacon Hills? Yeah, that fucking sucks.

Stiles spends his nights with his dad down at the station; it’s the only way he feels safe. Tonight he’s helping Parrish fill out progress reports. Everyone knows what Stiles did, sheriff’s kid after all, but they don’t blame him. Stiles wishes they would, maybe everything would be easier if they did.

“Hey, kiddo, you hungry?”

Stiles looks up at his dad and then glances at Parrish.

“Pizza?” Parrish suggests.

Stiles nods. “No pizza for you,” he tells his dad. “Salad.”

His dad walks off with a muttered _fine_ and Parrish chuckles.

“Cut him some slack, Stiles. Let the man have a slice of pizza.”

“Yeah, well, I almost killed him. Excuse me if I want him to live long and prosper.”

Parrish sighs. “I didn’t mean it like that--”

Stiles stands up, chair rolling backward as he stalks off. He’s starting to feel claustrophobic, and he wants to talk to Scott so bad, but he can’t. He pulls his phone out, finger hovering over Scott’s name before scrolling past it until he finds the one he wants.

“Stiles, hey,” Allison says. “Do you need--”

“I just need to hear a friendly voice.”

“Hang on,” she says, and Stiles hears her talking to her dad and then shutting a door. “Okay you have my full attention. How are you feeling?”

It’s always the first thing she asks him, and Stiles never knows how to answer.

“Claustrophobic at the moment. I’m at the station, again.”

“How’s your dad doing?”

“Okay I guess, he’s ordering us pizza. Scratch that, he’s ordering pizza for me and Parrish.”

“You’re helping Parrish out again?”

“It’s not like that, Ally, he’s twenty-six years old.”

“So? Since when do you care about a number like someone’s age?”

Fair point, Stiles thinks, biting his thumbnail a little aggressively.

“Why’d you call me, Stiles? Do you need to talk something out?”

“No, I mean,” Stiles sighs, walking further down the hallway. “Have you heard from Scott?” he asks softly, almost mumbling.

“You can call him, Stiles. You can see for yourself how he’s doing.” There’s a pause before Allison says, “He misses you.”

“I have to go.” Stiles ends the call, and immediately gets a text that reads: _Stop being a dick and call him._

He keeps chewing on his thumbnail, scrolling back to Scott’s name, finger hovering, and before he thinks too much longer he’s waiting to hear Scott’s voice.

“Stiles?” Scott says hesitantly. “Stiles, please say something and don’t hang up again.” Stiles rolls his eyes, but he knows it’s the truth. “I--I hope you’re okay,” Scott says, and Stiles can hear the pain in his voice. Stiles sits down on a bench, head bent low staring at the floor. “Stiles, please…”

He hangs up, tears sliding down his cheeks.

“Stiles? Stiles, what happened?” His dad sits next to him gripping the back of his neck. “Son?”

“Do you hate me? For everything I did?”

The sheriff grips Stiles’ neck harder, but the touch is comforting, gentle. “Of course not. It wasn’t you, Stiles.”

“But it was me!” Stiles yells, voice cracking. He’s standing again, pacing back and forth. “It was me, all of it. I killed… I killed all of those people. I--”

“Stiles--”

“I drove a sword through my best friend! I hurt him, Dad.” Stiles is crying now, and he can’t remember the last time he let himself cry like this. “I remember it, everything. Him begging me to stop, the… the way his body tensed up as it tried to heal itself, but I just drove it in more.”

“Stiles, you can’t do this.” The sheriff grips his shoulders. “You can’t really think Scott blames you for that, for everything. You were possessed.”

Stiles’ resolve hardens, shoving his dad’s hands away.

“I remember _everything_. There’s no pills to stop that,” Stiles spits out angrily.

His dad’s face softens at that, and Stiles wants to take it back. He’s being an asshole, he knows that, but his emotions are raw and his dad happens to be his outlet right now.

“If you want any pizza it’s in interrogation room three,” his dad says before walking away.

Stiles slides down the wall, head in his hands, his phone vibrates with a text he doesn’t read until he’s in bed hours later: _When you are ready I am here._

*****~*~***  
**

When it happens, Lydia screams.

It’s been three weeks, now, and Scott’s biding his time, waiting and waiting to hear anything from Stiles. As a distraction from not seeing or even hearing his best friend’s voice, Scott throws himself into learning what he can from Derek, helping Allison and her dad with the bestiary, and spending as much time working at Deaton’s as he can. Isaac went on a sabbatical, letting him and even Derek know that he’d be back, but they understood why he needed some space. Scott still feels odd taking on the role of Isaac’s alpha, but Isaac, through no fault of his own, had made the choice; at least Isaac and Derek are trying to mend fences.

He’s cleaning cages with Kira when she stops suddenly, staring at his face.

“What’s--”

And that’s when Lydia screamed.

It happens unexpectedly, but not really; Scott had felt it building inside him since he made the sacrifice for his mom. He drops to the floor panting heavier than he ever has, vision bright, angry red as he stalks on all fours toward Kira, backing her into a corner.

Lydia comes running into the room screaming, “Scott, don’t!”

His head whips around, body shifted into a fully formed wolf. His brainwaves still register as human, he knows that Kira’s behind him and Lydia’s in front of him, but his wolf is in control now. Scott stalks closer to Lydia feeling gigantic, and he’s not sure, but his head tilts at Lydia because her aura is different from Kira’s.

“Scott?” Lydia whispers. “Scott, is that… is that you?”

Scott growls, shoulders hunching because he doesn’t like the tone of her voice.

“Lydia, don’t freak out. He’s sensing your emotions,” Kira tells her.

He looks back at the girl, and she has a name, he just can’t remember what is right now. He growls louder, ears perking up as he hears footsteps walking down the hall, a soft gasp before--

“What… what happened?” Allison says, looking to Lydia first then to Kira.

“He just -- It just happened,” Kira says as calmly as she can.

“I screamed. I thought he was going to hurt her.”

Allison steps closer to Lydia, reaching for her hand and holding it firmly.

“It’s okay.” Allison squeezes Lydia’s hand before walking toward Scott. “Scott? It’s Allison. Can your hear me?”

“But, Allison, you aren’t his anchor anymore!” Lydia reminds her, covering her mouth when Scott turns back to look at them, eyes still glowing red.

He starts stalking back and forth across the room, keeping a close eye on the three figures around him. He can taste their fear in the back of his throat, something he can’t swallow, and when he senses one of them moving to the door he growls, planting himself in front of it.

And then a phone starts to ring.

“That’s Scott’s,” Kira tells them, pointing to the cubby behind Allison.

Allison grabs it saying, “It’s Stiles.”

Something snaps in Scott’s mind, latching onto Stiles’ name, and a flood of memories bombard him at once. He focuses on Stiles’ arms around him hugging him, fingers curling against his back, face tucked in his neck, and it’s almost like he can smell Stiles right here. The smell of roasted marshmallows pulls Scott back to his human side, curled up naked on the floor, panting and trembling.

Someone covers him in a blanket and he looks up to see Kira’s face, Allison and Lydia kneeling behind her.

“How’d you anchor yourself?” Lydia asks, handing him a bottle of water.

Allison answers for her: “Stiles.”

Scott stares at the wall, the smell of roasted marshmallows still lingering, his heart aching.

***~*~***

“He shifted into a _wolf_ , Stiles,” Lydia says from the computer screen. “And apparently _you_  are his anchor now.”

Stiles looks askance, not wanting to hear anymore. It happened a few days ago, but Lydia’s only telling him now considering him and Scott still aren’t speaking. Rather, Stiles is still keeping his distance, because he doesn’t want to see the judgement and blame in his best friend’s eyes.

“He would never blame you, Stiles.”

“I can’t -- Not yet. I can’t sleep without dreaming about everything I did, Lydia. Putting that sword through him.”

“All of that was the nogitsune. The nogitsune violated you and possessed you, made you do all of those terrible things.”

Stiles knows that, he really does, but he has to live with it for the rest of his life. This isn’t something he can just cover up with whiteout and rewrite. This is his life and he’s stuck with the memories.

“Promise me you will talk to him soon,” Lydia says.

Stiles swallows, scratching his head. “I can’t make any promises--”

“This is one promise you should keep. This is Scott.”

Stiles only nods, glancing at Lydia, finally, and then to his phone sitting on top of his jeans. They say their goodbyes, Lydia reminding him of their weekly study session on Friday, and that Derek still wants his input with the new section of the bestiary.

He doesn’t sleep well at all, tossing and turning, until he finally wakes up in a cold sweat. It feels like someone or something is trying to strangle him, and for a few minutes Stiles thinks he’s really being choked. The panic attack leaves him shaky and dizzy, and he sits up stomach roiling as he tries not to throw up. He reaches for his phone and it's late, four a.m., and without a second thought he calls Scott.

"Stiles?" Scott answers groggily.

Stiles almost hangs up but doesn't.

"Did you have a panic attack? You wouldn't call this late." Stiles listens to Scott breathe for a few minutes, burrowing back under the covers. "We had someone bring baby ducks to Deaton's yesterday."

"Ducklings," Stiles whispers.

"Yeah, ducklings." Scott doesn't say anything for awhile and then it's nearly five a.m. "I need to go, Stiles."

Stiles swallows, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Deep breaths, drink something, and try to sleep."

Stiles' entire body relaxes at that, taking a deep breath and finding it easy to do so with Scott's help.

Scott sighs through the phone, tells Stiles goodnight, and hangs up.

"I'm sorry," Stiles says.

***~*~***

When Stiles finally goes back to school nearly a month later, he spends most of the time fending off panic attacks in the bathroom. It was too much to walk down the hallway where the nogitsune disintegrated, but Allison and Lydia luckily spotted him and walked with him to his first class.

“I’m not a child,” he had said glumly, gripping the straps of his backpack.

“You just need to readjust to being back,” Allison told him, offering an encouraging smile.

Now, though, he's in the cafeteria. He has successfully ignored and dodged Scott all day until he looks up from where he's standing, tray trembling in his grip, and staring straight ahead at Scott.

Scott doesn’t approach him, seeming to sense his fear, and the way his face crumples with hurt makes Stiles lose it. He drops his tray, food splattering everywhere, and he runs. He runs until he reaches the lacrosse field, favoring a stitch in his side, bright spots popping in his vision.

“Stiles!” Scott says loudly, and Stiles realizes too late that Scott’s gripping his shoulders.

“No.” Stiles wrenches out of Scott’s grasp but Scott reaches for him again. “I said no, Scott.”

Scott goes still, brow furrowing. “What did I do?”

“Nothing, Scott.” Stiles turns away from him, and he has to smack his hand away again. “What the hell do you want?”

“I want to talk to my best friend!”

“Yeah? Well I don’t want to have to remember _stabbing you_  with a fucking sword. I look at you, I think about you, and that’s all I see. That’s all I’ll ever see, don’t you get it?”

“How am I supposed to know how you’re feeling when you won’t talk to me?” Scott gets in his face, desperation pouring off him in waves. “Stiles, just talk to me.”

“I’m not Stiles anymore!” Stiles screams at him, eyes wide, surprised even at himself for admitting that.

“What are you -- Stiles, you’re still you. You went through hell and back, but you _survived_.” Scott shoves him, and he’s trying to keep his temper at bay, trying to hold the wolf back. “You survived! You’re still here, Stiles.”

Stiles shoves him back, and that’s when it gets a little wild. They never fight like this, and maybe with everything they’ve gone through, everything they’ve sacrificed, together, maybe it was always leading up to this. Scott’s claws pop at one point ripping right through Stiles’ shirt, and he can feel the shift happening. But Stiles keeps pushing and shoving, and Scott gives as good as Stiles is giving. Stiles knows Scott will heal quickly, but for a little while it’ll hurt.

“Sti--Stiles,” Scott pants, voice dropping.

“Scott?” Stiles steps closer. “Scott, you can’t -- You can’t!”

He drops to the ground with Scott, and Scott feels heavier under Stiles’ hands. Scott’s eyes are blazing red and he’s got his claws forced into the ground, and Stiles feels useless. Scott’s moving suddenly, sprinting off into the woods.

With no second thought, Stiles is running after Scott, blood pounding in his veins. He can distantly hear Allison shouting his name and Scott's, but he doesn't look back, skidding to a halt before tripping over a tree root, breath gusting out of him as he looks around for Scott. There are pieces of Scott's clothes scattered around the woods, and Stiles gathers them up, shouting for Scott.

"Sc--" Stiles coughs, taking a deep breath. "Scott!" A howl answers Stiles, making him look to his left.

The wolf materializes from the trees; light and dark shades of grey make up his fur, but his muzzle is white, ears darker than the color of his fur. Stiles is momentarily thrown by how the wolf, Scott as a wolf, sizes him up. He's not sure what Scott is sensing, but Stiles hopes he doesn't smell like fear, which apparently he doesn't since Scott seems to trust him, steps slow as Scott approaches him.

“Oh my god,” Stiles whispers, falling to his knees. Scott stands before him and Stiles isn’t sure if he should reach out and touch or start running back to school. “You’re… you’re amazing.”

Scott tilts his head at Stiles and he stays still as Scott scents the air around him. He wonders if he can smell Stiles' blood pumping, hear his bones grinding. Stiles even wonders for a moment if he somehow still smells like the nogitsune, watching Scott as he walks a complete circle around him. Scott growls, snapping his teeth at Stiles when Stiles brings a hand towards him.

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay. It’s just me,” Stiles says gently. “I can’t believe you can shift into a wolf. I can’t--” Stiles swallows, looking at the ground. “Funny how I feel confident enough to talk to you like this. Scott, I -- I know you would never blame me for everything the nogitsune did, but I blame myself. And I shouldn’t do that, I know, and I couldn’t face you. After everything. I didn’t want to look at you and see pity or hatred… for me. I could never handle you hating me, but I can’t handle looking at you and knowing what I did. Especially to you.” Stiles wipes at his face furiously. “I never wanted to hurt you, but I did, and I’m having a hard time dealing with that on top of,” Stiles sighs, throwing his hands up, “everything else.”

Scott headbutts him making Stiles fall back on his ass, pressing his muzzle against Stiles’ belly.

“Well, hey there.” Stiles tentatively curls a hand in Scott’s fur, scratching behind his ears. “Your fur is really soft.”

Scott must sense Stiles' distress, and he doesn't seem to like it. He sniffs at the claw marks and Stiles assumes he smells himself there. Stiles knows Scott didn't hurt him, and he knows Scott, or in this case his wolf self, are only making sure he's okay. Stiles keeps his guard up though; still dealing with a werewolf, after all.

Stiles isn’t sure how long he stays in the woods with Scott, but he’s suddenly being shaken awake, blinking away the sleep until he focuses on Scott.

“You’re human again,” Stiles says with a yawn.

“I was able to anchor myself eventually,” Scott confesses. “I didn’t want to wake you up so I let you nap a little.”

“Scott, I--”

“Stiles, if I could leech away all the pain you’re feeling right now, believe me, I would do it. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Being an alpha means protecting those I care about, and making sure they’re okay, and I realized that with me being stressed out about you, I was triggering the shift.”

Stiles doesn’t know what to say to that, folding his arms over his chest.

“I wish I could leech your pain, Stiles.”

“Pain makes you human.”

Scott laughs bitterly at that. “Of course you’d say that.” He takes a deep breath. “You were willing to die with me, Stiles, remember that?”

“Not something you easily forget.” Stiles frowns. “What’s that got to do with--”

“If we weren’t able to defeat the nogitsune, do you think I’d be able to live without you?”

“I would want you to keep living, Scott.”

“Stiles, I need you just as much as you need me. We made a pact when we were eight that no matter what happened to us, we’d always be there for each other. And you said even in death.”

“We were _eight_ , Scott.”

“We all thought you were _dying_ , Stiles! Before we knew it was the nogitsune, we thought you were dying. I would have done anything--”

“You would have made me a werewolf? You think I’d want that?”

“Oh, so, I wanted to be a werewolf?” Scott asks, incredulous. “I didn’t ask to be a werewolf. I didn’t ask to be some true alpha.”

“I didn’t ask to be possessed.”

“That’s just it, Stiles.” Scott walks up to him, wanting, needing to be near him suddenly. “You didn’t ask for it, so why would you ever think I’d _hate you_  for something you had no say in?”

Stiles lunges at him, wrapping his arms around Scott, almost crying when he feels Scott holding him. He takes a deep, gasping breath, clinging tighter to Scott.

Scott sags in Stiles’ arms, one hand gripping the back of his neck, and he can feel tears pricking his eyes. He missed his best friend; he missed this.

“I missed you, like, a lot. And you’re an idiot,” Scott mumbles. He holds on to Stiles tighter, like he has to remind himself of what it feels like to hug him. He had no idea how much he’d miss just hugging his best friend.

“I’ve been dealing with a lot of trauma,” Stiles says defensively.

Scott pulls back, gripping the side of Stiles’ neck.

“But you didn’t have to deal with it alone.”

Stiles grips Scott’s wrist loosely, nodding and wiping at his face.

“We should, um, probably get back to school,” Stiles says, giving Scott a wan smile.

“Right, yeah. Right.” At that moment Scott’s phone buzzes, pulling it out and there’s a text from Allison: _Are you guys okay? Lyds is stalling the principal._

“Allison or Lydia?” Stiles asks, falling in step with Scott.

“Both; Lydia is stalling the principal.” Scott looks to Stiles, frowning. “Crap. You’re covered in dirt.”

“So are you, dude,” Stiles laughs. “Hey, uh, thanks. For not hating me?”

“Why are you saying it as a question?” Scott hops the ditch and waits for Stiles. “I never hated you, Stiles, and I understand you needed time, and space. But you went weeks thinking that me, of all people, would hate you.”

They make their way across the lacrosse field, and Stiles tugs Scott back, glancing behind him seeing Allison standing there. Stiles’ phone buzzes and he looks at it quickly: _Hurry up!_

“I know, Scott, and,” Stiles swallows, taking a deep breath, “just, come by later. We should talk more about, you know, everything.”

Scott looks hopeful but wary, but he nods. “If you’re sure you--”

“I am.” Stiles nudges his shoulder. “I want you to come over.”

And when Scott smiles at him, Stiles feels a weight lift from his shoulders, and his heart swells with something indescribable.

***~*~***

Scott texts Stiles to tell him he’s on his way over when his mom knocks on his bedroom door.

“I’m heading to work. Are you and Stiles…?”

“We’re getting there, I’m actually about to head over to his place right now.”

Scott pulls on his boots, watching his mom stand there watching him, studying him curiously.

“What is it?”

“Be gentle with him, Scott.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Mom. He’s my best friend--”

Melissa holds up her hands in a gesture of surrender.

“I only mean that he’s been through a lot, and right now, more than anything, he needs you. You both need one another. When things, pardon my language, go to shit, it’s you two who always have the other’s back. Remember that.”

Scott nods, sort of understanding her meaning, given everything that’s been happening the last few months. His phone trills with a text alert, smiling when he reads it: _Bagel bites and doritos on me._

*

Stiles sets his phone aside, picks it up, and sets it down at least five times before finally calling Allison.

“Hey, Scott show up yet?” she answers.

“He’s on his way,” Stiles said, swallowing nervously. “Why… why am I so nervous?”

Allison sighs through the phone. “Stiles you have nothing to worry about. Hey, I gotta go, Dad needs help. We’re doing inventory tonight.”

“You sound way too psyched about doing _weapon_  inventory.”

“Don’t judge. Okay, Stiles, gotta go. You’ll be fine; both of you.”

Stiles takes a deep breath, wringing his hands through his hair. “I can do this. We’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.” He tells himself over and over until his dad’s knocking on the door.

“Hey, kiddo, I’m heading to work. If you need to come to the station call Parrish, okay?”

Stiles nods. “I think… I think I’ll be okay tonight, Dad.”

The sheriff worries his bottom lip between his teeth, still unsure about leaving.

“I promise, Dad. And it’s Scott, so, if something… if something happens, if I freak out then he’ll be here.”

They hug tight for a few moments, and when the warmth and safety of his dad is gone, Stiles is left alone in his room; left alone in the house. Scott will be here soon, he’ll be here soon, Stiles reminds himself. He can be alone in his house, he can do this. He has to be able to do this, because Stiles can’t keep doing this. He can’t keep having his dad and his deputies babysit nearly every night. He can’t keep waking his dad up with his night terrors. He can’t -- He can’t breathe--

Stiles’ vision dims, hands shaking and his entire body goes numb, weightless. He doesn’t remember ending up on the floor, but he’s curled in a ball now, sweating and trembling, squeezing his eyes shut. _No one can help you, Stiles_ , the nogitsune taunts in his mind, and Stiles presses his hands over his ears. _We’re going to kill all of them!_

“Stop stop stop stop!” Stiles screams.

“Stiles!” Scott’s voice is a dull roar, trying to get Stiles to look at him. “Look at me, Stiles!”

Stiles jolts in Scott’s grip, eyes wild, his pupils nothing but two pinpricks of color. Scott gets right next to Stiles’ ear, keeping his voice as calm as possible.

“Focus on me, Stiles. Breathe with me.”

Scott’s voice is muffled but Stiles is able to concentrate enough to take deep breaths, clinging to Scott with a vice-like grip.

“Breathe in, breathe out, Stiles. That’s it.”

Stiles takes a shuddering breath, feeling woozy now that he’s getting calmed down. Without thinking about it he wraps his arms around Scott’s shoulders, and he’s not a wolf, never will be, but Scott smells familiar. He smells safe.

“Safe,” Stiles whispers.

“Yeah, you’re safe, Stiles.” Scott grips the back of Stiles’ neck. “It’s okay.” Scott smells a faint trace of fear dissipating that minutes ago was the reason he kicked in the door. Something was wrong with Stiles, and Scott, well, he’ll pay for the door somehow.

“You’ve got me,” Stiles says softly.

“I’ve got you,” Scott repeats.

Stiles swallows thickly, pulling back to look at Scott, who’s here, here where Stiles always wants him to be. Why did Stiles ever think his best friend, his brother, would hate him for something he had no control over? Scott’s here, and he’s safe, and Stiles -- he loves Scott, a lot.

“I -- I--” Stiles stammers, and he has to say it. Right here, right now, when he’s never felt safer in the weeks since the nogitsune was defeated, Stiles has to say it.

“Stiles--”

“Scott, I love you.”

Stiles scratches nervously at his throat, the words almost foreign, but not really. Those words have always been beneath the surface, fighting their way to get out, but something always held Stiles back, most of all thinking that Scott didn’t. Didn’t love Stiles, or didn’t feel the same way. When they thought Stiles was dying, when Scott hugged him, held him like it might be the last time, Stiles wanted to say it then. He wanted Scott to know that he’s loved him for a long time, and will always love him.

“Scott, I -- I love you. I need you to know that, you know? Because living in this god forsaken town anything can happen. One of us could die, and fuck, we almost have; both of us. I can’t almost die again having never told you that I love you.” Stiles hiccoughs, tears brimming in his eyes. “I just needed you to know. I can’t… I can’t keep fighting this fight without you knowing I love you.”

Scott’s speechless, staring at Stiles. His declaration pretty much knocked him on his ass, slumping against Stiles’ nightstand.

“It’s okay if you don’t--”

Scott stops him. “No,” he hears himself say. No, he can’t let Stiles think he doesn’t love him, because he does. Scott almost lost his best friend, twice, recently. He almost lost the most important person in his life, not counting his mom, because she always counts. But this is Stiles, and Stiles--

“No, Stiles,” Scott reaches for Stiles’ still trembling hands.

“What are you saying no to? To me? You don’t have to say it back, I mean, we’re brothers and all that, and--”

Scott tugs Stiles closer, wrapping an arm across his shoulders. Stiles sags against him resting his head on Scott’s shoulder.

“You’re my anchor, Stiles.” Scott rubs his thumb back and forth over Stiles’ hand. “These last few weeks I’ve been antsy and stressed out because there was nothing I could do for you. I had to be your best friend, and sometimes a best friend needs to know when to give someone they care about time and space.”

Stiles just sits there listening to Scott, tilting his face up a little to look at Scott, nose brushing along his jaw. He feels it all the way to his toes, the tips of his fingers, when Scott shivers.

“Worrying about you has been triggering my shift, but then… I think about you, about us. I think about those times we’d camp out in a tent in your backyard, remember?”

Stiles laughs at the memory. “Making s’mores.”

“Roasted marshmallows.” Scott smiles into Stiles’ hair. “You’re my anchor, Stiles.”

“So much pressure,” Stiles jokes. Scott looks down at him and Stiles’ breath hitches, and Scott must hear it because he tightens his hold on him. “I thought you were, you know, being your own anchor.”

“It’s easier when I have you,” Scott admits truthfully.

“You always have me,” Stiles says, looking away from Scott, staring at their shoes. “I’m so fucking tired right now.”

“Want to take a nap?” Scott asks standing up, helping Stiles to his feet.

“We were going to have bagel bites and Doritos.”

“And we will, after you take a nap.” Scott starts taking off his jacket, toeing his shoes and kicking them aside. “I’ll nap with you.”

Stiles bites his lip, trying not to watch Scott as he tugs his jeans down.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to.” Scott throws a pillow at his head. “Ugh! You ass. Okay, fine, just--” Stiles shuffles around. If he’s doing this he has to wear his sleep clothes. He glances at Scott over his shoulder, who’s already lounging on his bed, and Stiles’ heart constricts a little. Scott still hasn’t really reacted to Stiles telling him he loves him, and now Stiles is all fidgety and thinking the worst.

“Stop thinking so loud,” Scott says.

Stiles shoves at Scott’s feet, crawling on his bed and sprawling out. They lie there for a few moments looking at one another, and at one point Scott reaches out to smooth Stiles’ hair back. It’s such a soft, comforting touch and Stiles scoots in closer, pushing his face more into his pillow.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Stiles mumbles, eyelids drooping.

“I’ll be here when you wake up,” Scott promises.

***~*~***

Stiles dreams for the first time in weeks.

_He’s in his backyard with Scott, and they’re watching the full moon rise higher in the sky. When he looks over at Scott he’s a little older, body fuller, face hardened but still soft around the edges. Stiles thinks he can see grey in Scott’s hair._

_“Hey,” Stiles says._

_Scott looks over at him, and something unclenches deep inside him, because the way Scott’s looking at him is… everything. Stiles feels like he’s seen this look a hundred different times, and it never gets old._

_“Hey, you.” Scott smiles, rolling over on his side, kissing Stiles on the cheek._

_Stiles sighs contentedly. “I love you,” he says._

_“Love you too,” Scott says with an easy smile._

Stiles jerks awake suddenly, and damn he’s really hot all of a sudden. He realizes why, eyes widening at the large, grey wolf sharing his bed.

“Sc--Scott?” Stiles says hoarsely. He very carefully reaches over to touch Scott, fingers sinking into the soft fur, gripping Scott at the neck. “Scott?”

The wolf’s head shoots up, ears perking at the sound of Stiles’ voice.

“Hey, buddy, um--” Stiles stops talking when Scott starts scenting him. “Hey, that tickles.”

Scott noses along his side until he stops, muzzle pressed into the crook of Stiles’ elbow.

“Do I stink that bad?”

Scott snuffles at that and Stiles would swear it’s a laugh.

“Can you… shift back? Not that I don’t like wolf-you, but yeah, you know.”

Stiles rolls over when Scott begins to shift; he’s a nice person who will not stare openly at his naked best friend in his bed, thank you very much. Even though he really, _really_  wants to, but Stiles is just, you know, being courteous.

“I have no idea when I shifted, dude, sorry about that.” Scott drags a finger up Stiles’ spine, snickering when Stiles yelps.

It hits Stiles suddenly--

“Did I have a nightmare?” Stiles asks tentatively.

“Have you been having nightmares lately?”

Stiles shrugs nonchalantly. “I mean, no more than usual? But with everything that happened they sort of, you know, started happening more frequently.”

Scott grips Stiles’ shoulder rolling him back over.

“How frequent?”

Stiles notes Scott’s lack of no longer being naked, and he’s grateful but suddenly misses the warmth and comfort of Scott’s wolf form.

“Pretty much every night since we defeated the nogitsune, but I just realized that since talking to you again I don’t remember when I had one.”

Scott squeezes Stiles’ forearm and Stiles feels like he can breathe normally for the first time in a really long time. Scott must notice because now he’s slowly, carefully touching Stiles, a comforting squeeze on his shoulder, fingers dragging down his side. Scott’s never had to leech Stiles’ pain but Stiles thinks that this must be what it feels like, just the opposite effect.

When Scott touches his face Stiles inhales sharply, pressing into the touch.

“I think it’s you, Scott.”

Somehow they’ve moved closer to one another, Stiles’ hand is fisted in Scott’s shirt, clinging to him. Scott’s still cupping his face, and Stiles doesn’t want him to stop. Doesn’t want Scott to stop touching him, making him feel safe.

Scott’s a little overwhelmed by Stiles’ scent, and he thinks it must be what content smells like, because that’s what Stiles smells like, feels like under his hand. He’s not sure what Stiles means, though, that it’s him doing this, but it might explain why Stiles is suddenly his anchor.

“I think it’s you, too,” Scott murmurs.

“What’s me?”

“You being my anchor.” Scott slides his hand down Stiles’ arm, holding his hand now. “I mean, I think you’ve always kind of been my anchor? You’re my best friend--”

“Brothers,” Stiles smiles, squeezing his hand.

“Yeah, exactly.” Scott looks at their linked fingers. “For a while it was Allison, you know? Just, you know, loving her like that; it was big time. She kept me stable.” Scott brings their hands up between them, rubbing his nose across Stiles’ thumb. “You keep me human.”

Stiles takes a deep breath, stomach clenching, heart racing.

“You were the first person I loved, Stiles.”

“You make me feel safe,” Stiles blurts out. “Sorry, fuck, I just ruined the--”

Scott leans in kissing Stiles’ forehead, resting there for a moment before he kisses his cheek, his fingers where they’re still holding hands, and then finally he kisses Stiles softly on the mouth. It’s nothing passionate or desperate, just his lips touching Stiles’, relishing the surprised gasp and kissing him one more time.

“So, that happened,” is the first thing Stiles says, because that’s all his brain is working with at the moment.

Scott bites his lip, looking apprehensive.

“Is it okay? That I kissed you?”

Stiles holds on tighter to Scott’s hand, remembering the dream he had. He was happy; happy with Scott.

“More than okay,” Stiles says, a note of happiness in his voice.

***~*~***

Scott wakes up just before seven a.m., with Stiles in his arms. He made sure to keep his senses alert in case Stiles had a nightmare, but Stiles no more than groaned in his sleep before settling down. Now, though, Scott really needs to go to the bathroom. It takes a lot of careful moving and trying not to jostle Stiles awake before he’s rolling off and up from the bed. Stiles stretches, buries his face in the pillows and doesn’t even wake up.

Just as he’s closing the door, Scott runs into Stiles’ dad.

“Sheriff.”

“Scott.”

The sheriff glances at Stiles’ door and then to Scott.

“I didn’t know you’d be staying the night. How’s -- Is he okay?”

Scott gets a good look at the sheriff and he can see the strain and stress on his face, he smells worried and panic, and it nearly suffocates Scott.

“He’s sleeping,” Scott says. “No nightmares.”

The sheriff visibly relaxes and Scott shifts awkwardly, as though Stiles’ dad might be intuitive enough to figure out that Stiles didn’t have a nightmare because Scott was with him.

“I’m going to--” Scott points in the direction of the bathroom.

“Okay, son. Sure.” He studies Scott for a long moment. “Are you okay?”

Scott opens his mouth, closes it quick because he’s not sure how to answer. He’s definitely glad to be talking to Stiles again, more than anything.

“For the most part,” Scott concedes. “After everything that’s happened, I’m not sure any of us will be the same, but,” he pauses for a moment. “I’m glad he’s talking to me again.”

The sheriff smiles gently, nodding. “You two have always taken care of one another.”

“Yeah, always,” Scott swallows.

“Tell Stiles I’ll see him this afternoon, okay?”

Scott nods, watching the sheriff disappear into his bedroom. He finally goes to the bathroom, taking a few minutes to just, breathe, gripping the edges of the sink, staring at himself in the mirror. He turns around when the door clicks open and Stiles walks in rubbing at his face.

“You weren’t in bed,” Stiles rasps.

Scott’s stomach jolts at that, lips tingly remembering when he kissed Stiles.

“Had to piss,” Scott says. “Everything okay?”

Stiles bites his lip like he’s thinking really hard about something.

“Do you--”

Scott doesn’t get to finish because Stiles is pressing against him, fitting himself in all the curves and dips of Scott’s body, his lips touching Scott’s tentatively. Scott’s not sure how to react at first but his mouth parts of its own volition, and Stiles takes that as permission, his tongue slipping past Scott’s lips.

This kiss is different, it feels like something more, and Scott knows they’ll have to talk about whatever this is, this unspoken thing between them. Until then, Scott cups his hands on Stiles’ neck, ignoring the taste of morning breath, kissing him back just as eager.

“I think I could get used to this,” Stiles mumbles into Scott’s mouth.

Scott laughs breathlessly, giving Stiles’ swollen lips a small peck.

“I slept six hours straight,” Stiles says.

Scott gets a good look at Stiles, and he does look well rested.

“With no nightmares,” Stiles adds as an afterthought.

Scott’s still silent, taking one of Stiles’ hands in his, threading their fingers together.

“I love you, too.” Scott looks at their hands and then looks at Stiles, who’s staring at him wide-eyed. “Before you came in here I was standing here thinking how I’m glad to be talking to you again. I thought about that night in the hospital, when we thought you were dying, when I told you I’d do something, because I would. I will, do anything, for you.”

Stiles squeezes Scott’s hand but doesn’t say anything.

“I’d do anything for you, Stiles, and not because I love you.” Scott smiles, looking down. “You’re my brother, my best friend; you’re family.” He brushes his thumb over Stiles’. “You’re my heart.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t -- I didn’t know how to deal with what I did--”

“Not you,” Scott corrects him quickly.

“Right, I know, I just… I needed time.”

Scott tilts his head. “And now?”

Stiles pushes back into Scott, arms wrapping around his neck.

“I want to go back to bed.” Stiles rubs his nose at Scott’s temple. “Come back with me?”

Scott turns his face a little catching a quick smell of Stiles’ scent, breathing in deeply, and it feels right being right here with Stiles in this moment. Being with his best friend again.

“Nowhere else I want to be.” Scott smiles, letting Stiles pull him back to his bedroom.

***~*~***

Stiles jerks awake, eyes whizzing around his room, reminding himself that he’s no longer possessed, that the nogitsune is dead. He takes a deep, steadying breath, and his hand knocks into something warm and fleshy.

Scott.

He smiles to himself and then he hears a buzzing, reaching over to the nightstand for his phone. There are three text alerts, and he’s a little confused until he reads each one:

 **Allison:**   _sorry it’s late but just shooting you a text hoping it went well btwn you guys_  
 **Dad:**   _Letting you know I am at work. Told scott to tell you I would see you in the afternoon. Love you._    
 **Deputy P:**   _ur dad ate 2 donuts what’s the protocol on this?_

Parrish’s text makes him laugh and Stiles feels the bed shifting beside him, Scott’s sleepy face emerging with an equally sleepy smile.

“Why are you smiling?” Stiles asks, putting his phone away.

“I haven’t heard you laugh in _months_. That was the best sound I’ve heard in a long time.”

Stiles burrows back under the covers, shoving Scott’s shoulder playfully.

“You’re such a sap, who knew.”

Scott frowns suddenly, brows knitting together.

“Did you have a nightmare?”

Stiles shivers nodding a little. “It wasn’t bad, though, I didn’t wake up screaming. Just some shortness of breath and woke up in a cold sweat.”

Scott grips Stiles’ forearm and he doesn’t leech his pain, simply gives Stiles an anchoring touch, and Stiles dissolves into his side, scooting closer now.

They’re both quiet until Stiles breaks the silence, as usual.

“Were you scared the first time you did the full shift?”

“Not really? It felt… really freeing. I think I subconsciously wondered if I’d be able to shift back.” Scott moves his head in a more comfortable position. “I think I’m okay, now, because my anchor is talking to me again.” He grins.

Stiles rolls his eyes but he’s smiling.

Scott sobers up, bringing a hand to Stiles’ face, thumb brushing across his cheek.

“If you need me, for anything, don’t ever hesitate. Okay?”

“I have to learn to be okay on my own again. I can’t ask you to like, sleep outside my door.”

Scott laughs. “Well if I’m ever hiding under your porch it’s because I love you.”

Stiles groans and rolls over on his back, Scott’s hand resting on his chest now.

“I thought I was the only one who made unnecessary dog jokes.”

“Not anymore you aren’t,” Scott says, pressing closer to Stiles.

They wind up dozing off for another hour or so, and Stiles wakes up first again, watching Scott sleep. It’s in this moment here warm and safe in his bed with Scott that he realizes he’s going to be okay. As long as him and Scott have one another they can make it through anything, make it out alive: together.

**Author's Note:**

> Not canon compliant because Allison's still alive. Stiles is dealing with a lot of trauma post-nogitsune, so please be aware of that. He has a brief panic attack but it doesn't go into much detail.
> 
> Thank yous: coucourfeyrac, for her artwork and amazing prompt; Laura, for not only being my beta, but being my RB writing buddy, cheerleading, and hand holding; Lauren and Molly, for reading over it too and providing great feedback; Kim, for the summary because I suck at them; Kat and Brittany, for the late night word wars; and to everyone who supported me through this whole thing. 
> 
> BIG THANKS to Molly and Lydia for running this reversebang, and being so helpful and incredible!
> 
> Me on [tumblr](http://ionsquare.tumblr.com/); come cry about Skittles with me.


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